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by Amielleon
Summary: Tomorrow Owain could find himself in charge of their army. Today Inigo's just trying to keep him happy.


Giftfic for tattedmariposa. Happy birthday! With thanks to Natalie (Wet Noodles) for the last-minute beta.

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Brady had been tending to her around the clock since the fever set in. They were not to be disturbed, and only Brady's scurrying understudy had passed through the flaps of the medical tent in the last two days. The rest of them whiled away their time boiling extra batches of riverwater, playing cards with old mismatched decks, and trying to avoid the topic of why they had been forced to halt their march in the middle of Risen territory.

It was starting to make them all go a little strange. Yesterday Gerome had even drawn his axe at someone in camp. It was in these times, Inigo thought, that his own talents was most useful to them.

"And then?" Cynthia prompted, leaning forward on her precariously balanced stool.

"He sneaks up to the door," Inigo said in a low voice, "and peers into the keyhole." Six pairs of wide eyes looked at him with rapt attention. He knew the ghost story would work well—they were anxious enough to be taken in like children, but old enough not to let it haunt them. At the end, they'd laugh off the story's tension and a little more besides.

"But it's too dark to see anything. So he puts his ear to it instead. But it's dead silent. So"—out of the corner of his eye, Inigo caught a glimpse of Owain slipping away into the woods—"with his palms sweating up a storm, he turns the knob, and creeeaaaks the door open..."

Where in the world was Owain going alone?

"And I'll tell you how it ends when I get back," Inigo said with a wink, waving off their cries of disappointment and heading in the direction of the mess tent. When he was certain their eyes were no longer on him, he circled around to grab his satchel and chase after Owain.

It wasn't long before Inigo spotted him, wandering the forest within the patrol's perimeter. So he probably wasn't intending to do anything stupid, Inigo thought with relief. He had a tendency to be reckless when he was responsible for no one but himself. He wouldn't have put it past Owain to spontaneously embark on a scouting mission without telling anyone.

But it seemed he just wanted some time alone to think. Inigo turned around to head back to camp.

"Inigo?"

Inigo halted and look back at Owain sheepishly. "Oh, hello. Fancy meeting you here."

"You followed me?" Inigo flushed and glanced between Owain and his shoes. Owain seemed more amused than anything. "It's fine." He waited until Inigo came up to walk alongside him.

"So—is something the matter?" Inigo finally asked.

Owain laughed and said, "The signs align, and I brace myself for the shifting tides of fate. Is it time for the power of my blood to show itself? Time for the legacy of heroes to carry themselves forth in my righteous fury? Aye, I muse upon these matters as the fated hour draws near."

"I didn't quite get that, but I'm guessing it has to do with Lucina."

Owain rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his hand and muttered, "The divine princess's life hangs by a thread, indeed."

"Don't worry. She's got a strong body. She'll pull through as always."

Of course that was what he said. Owain was smart enough to hear their emptiness, if he wasn't in the mood for playing along. He wasn't, and in the tired voice of a teenage boy, he said, "This isn't an ambush, or a spear wound, or a delicate truce. It's swamp fever. It claims one in four, and no one's odds are any better. Not even Lucina's."

Faltering slightly at Owain's shift in tone, Inigo said with false optimism, "She's lucky. One in four isn't that bad for what we've seen."

Owain shrugged vaguely. "Eh. She looks lucky, because she can always sense the best way to carry out a mission."

Inigo let his own smile fade. "Yeah. I know."

"That's not something I can do."

"Most of us can't."

"I might have to."

Owain rubbed his hand over his sleeve, right above the brand it concealed. Inigo remembered a thousand little comments Owain had made only months ago about how lucky he was to have two strong heirs before him, leaving him to be at liberty to be carefree. Afterward Morgan disappeared, then Lucina fell ill, and now Inigo suspected that Owain was berating himself for all his unexpected shortcomings.

"You know," Inigo said, "you don't have to follow in her footsteps." Owain raised his eyebrows at him. "Falchion's owner doesn't have to be the one who gives orders."

"But he should be. Passing along the burden is admitting I can't do it." He lifted his chin at Inigo and said, "You don't think I should lead either, huh."

"What? I didn't say that."

"No, but after the last few years together none of you would take me seriously. I know." Owain leaned against a tree and let his head fall back against the bark. "I've really ruined myself for leadership." Inigo searched for the right words; in that silence Owain added, "Mother would be disappointed."

"_I'm_ not disappointed," Inigo said weakly. Owain looked at him like he was interested in what Inigo had to say. "I mean—how long have we known each other? You've always been you for as long as I remember, and that's why I like you."

Owain put his hands against his forehead and gave a sigh as if to say _spare me the inspirational speech_.

"Sorry, I'm just saying the first things that come to mind—"

"It's all right. Thanks for being honest."

"No, I mean—what I meant to say is, I know you don't want to, but I also know you have a good sense for what needs to be done. I can't speak for anyone else, but I know you're capable. I'd listen if you led."

Owain had dropped his arms to listen, and now, at a loss for what to do with them, he crossed them behind his head. "It's good to know I'd at least have you," he said, looking down at his feet with enough insecurity to ruin his confident gesture. "If everyone abandons ship, at least I won't have to make it alone."

"I wouldn't let you go alone."

Inigo stepped closer and laid a hand on his shoulder. Owain looked him in the eye and the corners of his mouth briefly quirked into a smile. "No, you wouldn't. Thanks." Owain clasped his hand over Inigo's arm.

Something about the way Owain was looking at him was just right. Wary of making a mistake, Inigo leaned forward, just a little, watching to see if he'd flinch away.

He didn't. Just as tentatively, Owain edged forward, his eyes glinting as if daring Inigo to continue—because Owain would, and at this rate—if they kept going—

Against the tip of his nose, Inigo felt Owain's skin brush so lightly it tickled. They froze right there as if it had suddenly occurred to both of them what they were doing.

Then Inigo decided that he'd quite like that, and made the final lunge to seal his mouth over Owain's, catching his surprised breath in his own mouth. Owain steadied himself against the tree, not caught off guard, but still at a loss for what to do. Tentatively, Inigo touched his tongue against Owain's teeth, when it suddenly struck Inigo how many lines he had crossed in the last few seconds and he pulled back with embarrassment.

"Sorry," Inigo murmured. Owain didn't reply immediately, staring at Inigo's mouth and his rapidly reddening face. "That was weird, wasn't it."

"Kinda," Owain said, partially concealing a contemplative look with a hand across his face.

"I don't know why I did that. I—I meant everything I said," Inigo said. "I wasn't being a flirt or anything..."

"I know," Owain said. "Nothing's more obvious than when you're trying to turn on the charm."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Owain shrugged and smirked to himself. "Mind it not, my boon companion. But my senses alert me to the hour—has our disappearance been discovered? Do our comrades fear us for dead in the wastes of the bog? Quickly, the fallen hero and the dancer must rendezvous with the team before the enemy strikes!"

Owain crunched through the underbrush in the direction of camp, energetic as ever. Following him, Inigo wasn't certain if Owain felt better or if he was looking for an exit.

Maybe his little impulse had just put more stress on Owain. He never meant to make things worse. Somewhere in between their constant hypervigilance and seeing each other's faces all day, they'd all made plenty of heated missteps in the ways they dealt with each other.

Though up until now, kissing his best friend hadn't been one of them. If he had just ruined one of his oldest relationships, he'd regret it forever.

"We were just about to look for you!" Cynthia told Inigo when they returned. "You left everyone in the middle of a cliffhanger to sneak off with Owain? Aside from leaving us all horribly concerned for the fate of the poor fisherman, that's not a very good diversion tactic. ...And why were you sneaking off with Owain anyway?"

She looked at the two of them with sharp scrutiny. Inigo put on his best false smile as his insides shook with shame.

"We were developing our combo attack!" Owain chimed in. Inigo glanced at Owain, wondering what it meant for him to spout dramatics at Cynthia so shortly after voicing regret. Maybe he hadn't helped anything. "It requires a bond forged through moments in shared isolation, to reveal the harmony between two souls to unleash devastating power in battle."

"Right," Cynthia said, giving Inigo a look like she couldn't believe he was involved in Owain's projects. "Well, I'll tell everyone to stop worrying about you two. Let us know when you wander off for practice, okay?"

Cynthia pranced off to spread the word. Inigo turned to Owain and started to say all at once, "Hey, can we forget all of that? I haven't slept well and I wasn't thinking back there, and I don't want it to—"

Owain said, "No, uh, it's fine."

"It's okay with you? Because I was really worried that—"

He went quiet as Owain laid a hand on his arm. Smiling, Owain said, "Let's talk about it after Lucina's better."


End file.
